


Dawning Promises

by amyfortuna



Series: 2016 Season of Kink (Card 1) [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Double Penetration, Father/Son Incest, Feanorian OT8, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Oaths & Vows, nipple sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7814680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long before the Oath, Fëanor and his sons made other vows to each other, just as strong, of eternal devotion and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dawning Promises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



> This story has an instrumental playlist to go with it - you can download it [here](http://www.filehosting.org/file/details/597062/DawningPromises.zip). (After the anon period this can be made available in other ways.) 
> 
> The tracks are: 
> 
> 1\. Dawning Promises by Icon  
> 2\. For Love And Honor by Future World Music  
> 3\. A Place in Heaven by Thomas Bergersen  
> 4\. Desire by Future World Music  
> 5\. Dreams Come True by Brand X Music  
> 6\. Visions of Grandeur by Icon  
> 7\. Crown of Glory by Fired Earth Music  
> 8\. Homecoming by Thomas Bergersen  
> 9\. Infinite, Immortal by Fired Earth Music  
> 10\. Protectors of Light by Future World Music
> 
>  
> 
> Also fulfils my Season of Kink prompt for anal play.

The feast was a large one, planned for months in advance, for Fëanáro's 250th begetting day. Despite the fact that Nerdanel was pointedly absent, and neither of Fëanáro's half-brothers in attendance, it was the social event of the season. It went on for nearly the whole of Telperion's shining, until two hours before the early Mingling, when the guests betook themselves home, and Fëanáro's sons gathered around him in their cozy family living room, separate from the fancier rooms where the feast and dancing had been.

Fëanáro was in high feather, a flush on his cheeks, the Silmarils making a rare public appearance in a coronet on his brow. He looked around at his sons, all home for the festivities, who had draped themselves over every available bit of furniture. 

The twins were curled up together in one armchair, speaking softly to each other, Curufinwë was lying on the couch with his head in Maitimo's lap, eyes closed as Maitimo carded through his hair soothingly, Macalaurë sat at his harp, idly playing a wandering tune that drifted here and there, punctuating the sounds of conversation. Tyelcormo was sitting on the floor as usual with Huan, carving some small thing out of wood, and Carnistir was sitting on the same couch that held Maitimo and Curufinwë, a wineglass in his hand, chatting with Tyelcormo. 

"My lovely sons!" he exclaimed, holding out his arms. "All with me at once, how rare and beautiful is this!" All heads turned immediately when he spoke, smiling at his gathered family.

Pityafinwë and Telufinwë rose from their shared armchair, embracing their father with identical grins. Casting quick conspiratorial glances over at Maitimo and Macalaurë, they tugged their father into the chair they had been occupying, and sat down next to him, one on each arm of the chair. 

Maitimo gave Macalaurë a quick look, and Macalaurë started to play a sweet, slow tune, warm and inviting. Maitimo bent down to Curufinwë's dark head in his lap. "It's time, Curvo," he whispered, and Curufinwë opened his eyes and sat up, blinking into wakefulness, leaning against Carnistir now, who shoved him playfully with a shoulder. 

Tyelcormo patted Huan on the head. "Go on, then, time for you to leave," he said, and Huan obediently rose and left the room, not without casting a backward reproachful glance that he couldn't stay with his master. Telufinwë, who was closest to the door, shut it firmly after him. 

Fëanáro watched all this with something of an air of amusement in his eyes. "What are you doing, my sons?" he said. "What do you have planned?" 

Maitimo rose from the couch, and stood in the middle of the room, facing Fëanáro with a bright light in his eyes. He looked radiantly beautiful, copper hair flowing loose down his back, fine features alight with a fierce happiness. He made a bow to Fëanáro, in the best courtly style, and then, as if overcome by emotion, dropped to his knees before his father. 

"We have a gift for you, Tatanya," he said, his clear voice ringing out. "We are the sons of Fëanáro, and we wish to give ourselves to you entirely. We would be yours in every way, body, heart, and mind, always and forever." Behind him, Macalaurë's harp underscored each word, giving it power and precision, and added beauty. "We have decided, as one, that we will no longer devote ourselves to separate lives away from you and each other. We have come here today intending to stay, and not to leave you, resigning all ties beyond that of family, that we may show ourselves worthy of such a father. We vow that our lives are yours, until you bid us leave you, or Arda ends." 

Curufinwë stood up from the couch, and then knelt beside Maitimo. "If we break faith with you," he said, "may the stars fall upon us, may the seas swallow us, may the earth devour us whole." Macalaurë's music soared and leaped triumphantly, putting his feelings on the matter more eloquently than he could in words, and Carnistir knelt down. 

"Do not ask us to be parted from you, or or you to be parted from us," he said. "Where you go, we go, even to the ends of the earth, where you dwell, so will we." 

Telufinwë slid off the arm of the chair, and knelt too, at his father's knee. "I pledge myself to you," he said quietly, taking his father's hand and bringing it to his mouth in a long and tender kiss. 

Pityafinwë followed his example, falling to his knees, and taking Fëanáro's other hand. "I give you all of my life," he added. 

Macalaurë ceased playing, and in the sudden silence that followed, Tyelcormo stood up, made his way over to Fëanáro, looked like he was going to say something, then stopped. There was a breath of a moment where nothing happened and Fëanáro looked up in curiosity, then Tyelcormo bent down, and kissed his father. It was a hard kiss, an intimate kiss, the kiss of a lover, and Fëanáro let out a harsh breath as their lips met, as if very slightly surprised, but accepted it, warm and welcoming. 

When Tyelcormo drew back, it was to a crowded rush of hands all reaching for Fëanáro. The twins had kept hold of his hands; Curufinwë's fingers carded through his hair; Carnistir was curled up against his knee, hand on his thigh; Maitimo laid a hand on Fëanáro's shoulder, and Macalaurë, not to be left out, put his harp by and drifted across to his other side, draping one arm around Curufinwë's waist, and letting the other drift slowly down to idly stroke Fëanáro's chest. 

Fëanáro was overcome with emotion; he gazed at them in wonder, each eager face by turn. When he spoke his voice was rich with warmth and joy. "What more can I say than I accept and gladly so?" he said. "But no, I can say more, and this I promise: I vow my own vow as strong as yours, that as your lives are mine, mine shall be yours, from now until Arda's ending." He leaned forward and kissed them each, one by one, starting with Macalaurë, and ending with Tyelcormo. 

"We've made such plans for you, Father," Pityafinwë said with a sweet smile, cozying up against Fëanáro. "We've laid together night after night and talked them over, until every detail was perfect."

"Will you put yourself in our hands?" Telufinwë asked. "The rest have all agreed to it." 

"Then I will, my little darlings," Fëanáro said, drawing the two slender forms closer to him, kissing one on the cheek, then the other.

  


Just down the hall, Fëanáro's bedroom - lonesome since Nerdanel's departure, but no longer - had been newly decorated in red and gold. The bed was a gift from Pityafinwë and Telufinwë, carved out of one large piece of dark wood, the softer furnishings had been designed and commissioned by Carnistir, Curufinwë had created and set the star-like lamps in the ceiling and on the walls, Maitimo had designed the whole room and its colour scheme, and Macalaurë had been the one to gather the flowers for the final touch of decoration and set up a harp in the corner of the room. Fëanáro had not yet seen it.

Maitimo, bearing Fëanáro in his arms, swept into the room through the open double doors, and sat down on the bed with his father in his arms, whispering softly to him and nuzzling against him, explaining the way the room looked, as everyone else filed into the room and began their appointed tasks, instructed by the twins. 

Fëanáro's sons had been talking this day over for several years now, in the privacy of their rooms at night, whispering in the darkness of sweet fantasies they each entertained. From their young days when Maitimo had tutored them all in the arts of love, unofficially and passionately, to times when they had piled up together for afternoons of warm lovemaking and delightful conversation all in one, it had always felt like someone was missing. 

At first they laughed it off - 'he's happy with Mother, he doesn't need us like that' - or pretended, usually getting Curufinwë to dress up in one of Fëanáro's old outfits and mimic his quick, excited, way of speaking - but eventually that was not enough, particularly after Nerdanel returned to her father's house in the South, ostensibly at first just for a while, then permanently. Their differences when it came to the Valar had now grown so great that there was gossip about the nature of their argument throughout Tirion, with some of the people taking her side, and some his. 

The sons of Fëanáro and Nerdanel loved their mother, of course, but it was their father who they felt loyalty to, their father who starred in their Telperion-lit fantasies, whispered to each other in bed. And they knew well enough to know that most of the gossip about the arguments between their parents was made up out of whole cloth - Fëanáro and Nerdanel never had been the type to argue during their marriage; rather they had grown apart, simply, naturally, and inexorably. Her refusal to come to this celebration had been something of a final straw, and it had been Tyelcormo who first proposed the idea of this mighty gift of their own bodies and hearts to their father, something every one of them eagerly loved the thought of. 

It was Tyelcormo now who entered the room last, closing and locking the double doors, then making his way over to the large windows to draw heavy red and golden curtains over them, blocking out the silver light of Telperion. Curufinwë, meanwhile, went around the room drawing back the shades over the crystal lamps to light the room; Macalaurë settled down with his harp and began playing again; Carnistir joined him with a flute; Pityafinwë and Telufinwë quickly and efficiently stripped each other of all clothing, then made their way across to where Fëanáro and Maitimo sat on the bed. Maitimo had coaxed Fëanáro into a deep, gentle kiss, had wrapped his arms around him, pressed close to let Fëanáro feel how hard he was already. 

When Maitimo moved back to yield Fëanáro up to the twins, he was already breathless, eyes sparkling with lust, and he took in the sight of the two naked boys at the foot of the bed with decided appreciation. "Come here, little ones," he said, holding out his hands to both of them, turning so that his back was to Maitimo's chest, with Maitimo's arms still wrapped around him. 

Telufinwë climbed onto the bed first, making his way over to his father by crawling, ass up, swaying seductively. Pityafinwë walked along the edge of the bed, instead, and stood beside Fëanáro, placing a hand into his, then lifting his father's hand and kissing the callused fingers warmly. Telufinwë crawled right into his father's lap, nuzzling against his father's clothed erection, inhaling the scent of him, while Pityafinwë leaned over and kissed him. 

After a time of trading warm kisses back and forth, the three of them began to carefully work Fëanáro's clothes off, kissing each bit of skin as it was bared. The coronet bearing the Silmarils they left on, and the light from them illuminated the room in warmth and beauty. Everything was fair under their light. 

Beside them on the floor of the room, their tasks complete, Tyelcormo and Curufinwë were making a game out of removing their clothes, dancing together to the soft music that Macalaurë and Carnistir played. Tyelcormo's hair, long and silver, was flying unbound as he performed his favourite steps from the Deer Dance, and Curufinwë laughed as he played the part of the hunter, stalking him down and stripping his clothes off, until Tyelcormo escaped again. 

Maitimo eventually slid out from behind Fëanáro, leaving him to the twins' tender mercies, and gracefully stripped off his own clothing, then joined Curufinwë in catching Tyelcormo. They pinned him between them - Maitimo kissing Tyelcormo hard and fast - then brought him to the bed. Pityafinwë had already slicked his fingers up and was sliding them in and out of Fëanáro while Telufinwë exchanged kiss after kiss with his father. 

"You first," Maitimo said, laughing, to Tyelcormo, who threw his hair back over his shoulders and slinked over to Fëanáro, grinning. He spared a moment to lick over the head of Fëanáro's cock as Fëanáro cried out and arched upward, then nestled down against his father. "What do you want from us, Dad?" he asked, looking into Fëanáro's eyes. "We've dreamed of so much, but we couldn't plan this." 

Fëanáro smiled. "I've dreamed too, and my dream is this - I want you all inside me, except for my little Curufinwë, who I've wanted to fuck for years." His voice was audible over the soft music. "My glorious sons, my beauteous creations, is this your desire too?" 

The response was unanimous and immediate as they all breathed 'yes' together, Macalaurë's harp and Carnistir's flute echoing the cadence of that resounding reply. Telufinwë, laughing, then tugged Tyelcormo by the arm. "You first, or shall it be me?" he said, eyes alight, bending to kiss his brother. 

"Definitely me," Tyelcormo said when the kiss broke, and hastily rose up to a kneeling position, settling between Fëanáro's legs, and pushing into him just as Pityafinwë withdrew his fingers, and slid off the bed, wiping them on a towel. Fëanáro tipped his head back and his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as Tyelcormo thrust into him, not bothering to start slowly but fucking him hard and fast, voicing incoherent murmurs about how good he felt and how much Tyelcormo had wanted this, how long he had waited for it. 

Fëanáro raised himself up a little and caught Tyelcormo's face between his hands, kissing him hard. Telufinwë, watching, could just see the movement of his father's tongue pressing into Tyelcormo's mouth, and shivered, wanting that. When Fëanáro drew back he held Tyelcormo close and murmured in return how much he was loved and desired, how happy Fëanáro was that the time had finally come for this. 

Tyelcormo came with a soft cry, muffled into Fëanáro's shoulder. When he raised his head after a moment, a bright red bite was visible there, and Fëanáro was smiling, holding Tyelcormo to himself, reluctant to let go of him. But Telufinwë had been driven beyond the bounds of all patience, and despite spending some of the time being caressed fondly by Maitimo, could wait no longer to have his father. 

"I want you, Tatanya," he breathed as Tyelcormo slowly moved away, falling onto the bed and into Curufinwë's welcoming arms. "Please may I...?"

Fëanáro leaned up onto an elbow and reached for Telufinwë. "Come here, my little one," he said. "What else did you plan this for, if not to have this moment?"

Telufinwë gave him a sultry look. "I've been planning for this moment for decades," he whispered, and kissed Fëanáro's ear gently, then moved down to give his neck soft bites. "I want to luxuriate in it." 

"We have all the time in the world, and all the moments you can dream of will be yours, my patient love," Fëanáro said, pressing kiss after kiss to Telufinwë's face. Across the room, Pityafinwë had picked up a violin and was playing it merrily along with Macalaurë's harp and Carnistir's flute, a triumphant score reflecting their feelings of joy and happiness. Under his breath, Maitimo was singing along to the tune, wordlessly, and Curufinwë hummed along as well, between pressing kisses to an exhausted Tyelcormo's chest and shoulder. 

Telufinwë settled between Fëanáro's legs. "Then I don't want to wait any longer," he said, pressing in. "Let's begin."

  


Telufinwë took his time, and while he cuddled his father, speaking softly to him in the aftermath, Carnistir relinquished his flute and came to the bed, stripping off his clothes as he went. The red and gold room was now covered in clothes and cushions, Tyelcormo and Curufinwë now curled up on the floor on some of those cushions, Tyelcormo slowly fucking Curufinwë to prepare him for their father.

Carnistir sat down on the bed and ran his hand down Telufinwë's side, then reached for his father's hand. "Father," he said, his voice full of significance, the blood rushing to his face. "My turn."

Fëanáro smiled up at him. "Of course." He laid one more kiss to Telufinwë's forehead, then Telufinwë moved away, but not without pressing his lips to his brother's, quickly and warmly. He was shining with sweat, warm and damp, smelling of sex, and Carnistir held him close for a moment, feeling his happiness as much as if it were a tangible thing. 

"My own," Fëanáro said as Carnistir crawled into bed with him, "what is your heart's desire?" 

"I want to make you come," Carnistir said bluntly, hungrily. He dropped his head, hair hanging into his face, and began to kiss Fëanáro all over as Fëanáro lay back, pulling him down with him. Carnistir nestled down into the warmth of Fëanáro's side, and latched his mouth onto a nipple, sucking at it strongly. Fëanáro petted his hair, feeling wave after wave of sensation sweeping over him with every tug of his nipple. 

After a few moments, Carnistir brought his hand up and began stroking Fëanáro's cock, slow and measured, rolling atop his father as Fëanáro squirmed underneath him. "Please," Fëanáro breathed, low and hot, "keep touching me."

"I wouldn't dream of stopping," Carnistir said, and carried on, moving so that he could plunge the fingers of his other hand into his father's ass rhythmically. He brought out gobs of his brothers' come and licked them from his hand. "You're going to come and then I'm going to fuck you. That's always been my fantasy." 

Fëanáro tossed his head back, arching upward into Carnistir's hand, fucking himself on Carnistir's fingers, crying out. When Carnistir bent down and sucked the head of his cock, Fëanáro came. At the same moment the music came to a crescendo and faded softly down as he trembled from the effects of his orgasm, and at the other side of the room, Macalaurë and Pityafinwë set their instruments aside and broke into cheers, exchanging kisses. 

"Mmm, yes, fuck me, fuck me now," Fëanáro said, still half in the throes of coming, and Carnistir wasted no time in pressing into him, fucking him hard and fast, until he came after just a few moments. 

As he pulled out, collapsing onto the bed, Pityafinwë was ready and waiting, and did not even speak to Fëanáro before pressing into him, then pulling out, catching the mingled come of his brothers on his cock and pushing back in again. Fëanáro was overwhelmed in bliss, all but limp from delight, and Pityafinwë lifted him up into his arms, saying passionately, "Father, oh father, yes," as he fucked him, not worried about Fëanáro's cock, which only began to get hard again when Pityafinwë was about to come. Fëanáro put his arms around Pityafinwë's neck, pressed their mouths together, and swallowed Pityafinwë's cry. 

Macalaurë slid onto the bed as Pityafinwë fell into Carnistir's waiting arms, and covered Fëanáro with his own body. "Fancy meeting you here," he said dryly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Fëanáro's mouth. 

"Would you have preferred the Lambengolmor?" Fëanáro said, and Macalaurë grinned. 

"Hmm, someday, perhaps," he said, and began licking up Fëanáro's seed, which had been drying on his belly. "I'd love for us to go there, and discuss what word would be most appropriate for me to call you as I do this." He looked up from his task, grinning, and Fëanáro laughed. 

Fëanáro's eyes lit up; he clearly had opinions on the subject, but bit them back, running a hand over Macalaurë's soft dark hair. "Any word you please, for the moment," he said, smiling, lifting himself up to meet Macalaurë's mouth with his own, tasting himself on his son. 

Macalaurë took his time, even more than Telufinwë had, idling until Fëanáro was fully hard again, then spending a few moments licking up not only Fëanáro's seed, but his brothers', which was beginning to leak out. He slid four long fingers into Fëanáro easily, then smiled, reaching for the oil again, and after a few moments was sliding his whole hand in and out of Fëanáro. "Cáno," Fëanáro breathed unsteadily, "make a fist, if you can," and Macalaurë tilted his head in approval, then slowly moved his hand fully into Fëanáro up to the wrist and very carefully closed his hand, not moving. "So _much_ ," Fëanáro said. "I always wanted...." He trailed off into silence. 

Maitimo, watching from the foot of the bed, moved a little closer. "Shall we take him together?" Macalaurë's nod was eloquent, and Maitimo climbed into the bed, bending his long limbs over to kiss Fëanáro deeply again. 

On the cushions next to the bed, Tyelcormo came again with a loud cry into Curufinwë. Next to them, Telufinwë was lounging, pressing a kiss now and then to one or the other. On the other side of the bed, Carnistir and Pityafinwë were wrapped up in each other's arms, half-dozing. Maitimo shoved at Carnistir a little to get more space on the bed - large though it was, five was a tight fit. 

Carnistir sat up sleepily, his hair mussed, and moved off the bed, leaving Pityafinwë to watch the scene playing out in front of him. Instead, Carnistir began to pick up the various clothes strewn about the room, taking them over to the small table near the window and sorting them by who they belonged to, ready to be put on again when they needed to be. 

Maitimo sat back against the headboard. "Come here, Dad," he said, holding out his arms, and Fëanáro crawled into them, followed by Macalaurë close behind him. Slowly, Maitimo brought Fëanáro's hips down over his own, penetrating him smoothly. He was so loose, trailing seed down his thighs, that even Maitimo, who had the largest cock among them, fit easily, and Macalaurë slotted himself behind Fëanáro, pressing in carefully. Fëanáro's face scrunched with slight pain at the stretch, and Maitimo kissed his face over and over, gently sliding a hand over his back to relax him. 

At last they were both seated fully inside him, and Macalaurë leaned forward to press kisses and small bites all along the line of Fëanáro's shoulders and the nape of his neck. Fëanáro shivered with delight at the feeling of both of them moving in and out of him, almost overcome with pleasure. He was hard, but neither of them touched his cock, instead wordlessly exchanging kisses, wet and full of warmth. 

Maitimo was the first to come, holding Fëanáro's hips still and spurting into him with a final jerk of his hips. Macalaurë wrapped his arms around Fëanáro from behind and thrust twice more, then he too was coming, the warm rush of their combined seed leaking out of Fëanáro's ass when they both carefully pulled out. Macalaurë pulled Fëanáro down to the bed, and for his ears alone, whispered one tender word in his musical voice, "Beloved." Fëanáro smiled and kissed him on the mouth, a hand on his cheek, and then Macalaurë slid off the bed, the smile on his face very sweet. 

Curufinwë, meanwhile, climbed up, and settled down next to his father. "At last, my turn," he said. 

Fëanáro smiled at him. "You haven't seemed bored," he said, leaning in to kiss him on the brow. 

"I've been waiting years for this day." Curufinwë brushed a hand over the coronet still in place on Fëanáro's brow, fingers tapping softly against the Silmaril closest to his right ear. "Make love to me, Tatanya, make me yours once more in this new way." He pressed a kiss to Fëanáro's mouth, warm and soft. "I want to belong to you in every way possible." 

Fëanáro rose up as Curufinwë positioned himself on the bed, spreading his legs. Without further ado, he pushed inside his ass, still wet from where Tyelcormo had fucked him. Curufinwë cried out wordlessly, and Fëanáro gathered him up into his arms, staring into the face that looked so like his own. They exchanged kiss after kiss, wrapped around each other so close they could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. The sounds of the others in the room - Maitimo breathing deeply on the bed next to them with Pityafinwë in his arms, Tyelcormo and Telufinwë cuddling on the cushions, Carnistir and Macalaurë speaking softly on the other side of the room - fell away and it was only the two of them, rising and falling together, minds as intimately entwined as their bodies. 

Their lovemaking was neither hard nor fast, but slow and tender, inexorable as the Sea, wave after wave of pleasure sweeping over them both until at last it crested and was too much to bear. They came together, Fëanáro's seed in Curufinwë's ass, Curufinwë spurting jet after jet of seed on both their stomachs. Sated at last, they lay together, still wrapped up in each other, kissing and caressing, for a long time.

  


Tyelcormo pushed back the heavy curtains to peer out at the garden. Outside the Mingling was nearly over. Laurelin lit up the skies with soft golden radiance but Telperion's light was nearly gone. The new day was beginning, full of dawning promises.

Over on the bed, Maitimo, Curufinwë, and Fëanáro lay sleeping peacefully. The coronet with the Silmarils had been placed on the bedside table and they were shining brilliantly, made more radiant by their maker's joy. Macalaurë was at his harp again, Carnistir playing his flute, and Pityafinwë had joined them on the violin, playing a tune that spoke of triumph and happiness, of winning everything longed for, of bright joy and wondrous light.


End file.
